Free Wreck of the Nebula Dream by Veronica Scott

arrival at Hub ahead of schedule, after breaking speed records for the run. Well, this isn’t going to impress the military procurement types much when it comes time for the next round of cruiser and battleship contracts. What kind of half-assed acceptance testing did cruise lines do on these civilian ships, anyway?
    Amused by the thought, Nick flopped on the mattress, punching the pillows to make them flatter, and shut his eyes.
     
    In the morning, the engines were running again. After awakening normally at the customary time observed by his inner clock, Nick lay still, listening for the subtle vibration, the harmonics, telling an experienced spacer such as himself the ship was sliding through hyperspace. All indications seemed fine, as far as Nick could tell from his decidedly unscientific observation.
    “There’s a message,” the ship announced, detecting his wakeful state.
    Nick pulled a pillow over his head. Will I ever be able to persuade this damn ship I don’t want it talking to me?
    “It is a priority message on all my internal com queues,” the AI offered hopefully, raising the volume slightly.
    Giving up, Nick threw the pillow aside. “Play the damn thing.”
    The smiling visage of the bearded and somewhat portly Captain Bonlors appeared in holographic form across the cabin. “To all my passengers,” he began, voice deep and warm, “let me extend my sincere apologies and those of SMT President Gordis Yankuri, on behalf of the SMT Line, for any inconvenience you may have experienced during the night while we performed routine engine maintenance procedures. I know there’s been concern expressed regarding our arrival time at Sector Hub, and I want to assure you we still anticipate an early docking.” Leaning in, he winked conspiratorially. “I can’t say anymore, you understand – don’t want to influence the betting on the arrival pool.”
    Running one hand over the stubble on his chin, Nick nodded. The man is smooth. Not surprising SMT put him in charge of their newest, most luxurious ship.
    “We don’t have any further maintenance planned prior to docking at Sector Hub, so you can count on uninterrupted nights for the rest of the journey. Again, my apologies to those passengers whose repose was disturbed. Don’t hesitate to let me or my crew know if there’s anything we can do to ensure your continued comfort and pleasure aboard the Nebula Dream .”
    With a jarring buzz, the hologram winked off.
    “Ship, what’s our new arrival time at Hub?” Nick was idly curious how much the engine incident had affected them.
    “The arrival time at Hub is unchanged, sir.”
    How can that be? Mouth half open to ask the question out loud, Nick decided SMT preferred to keep the passengers blissfully unaware of not only the engine malfunction, but also the lost interstellar speed record.
     
    When he went to the gym that morning, both attendants were there. Nick ribbed them gently about the captain’s announcement of routine, planned maintenance, versus what had actually happened.
    The two men exchanged wary glances. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what you’re referring to,” the senior attendant said a bit woodenly. “It was maintenance, sir, like the captain said.”
    “Like the captain said,” Easton chimed in, a fake smile plastered on his thin face.
    “Officer McElroy told me the inside scoop on what was going on,” Nick said over his shoulder as he selected the gravity parameters for the day’s workout. “Too bad about the speed record.”
    “We’re still on track for the record, sir,” both men said in unison.
    Annoyed to be treated like an oblivious civilian, Nick decided the service crew probably had their orders not to let on to anyone what had happened, so he let it pass.
    After his workout and a brisk swim at the now-crowded beach, Nick tried to call McElroy. The Ship refused to put his message through, saying the officer was on duty and unavailable.
    “I talked to him last